Here Then at Home
by Yunitsa
Summary: When Cassiopeia Clemmens comes to Hogwarts she sees it as the fulfillment of a lifetime’s worth of dreams, but there’s much that she doesn’t know about her new home and the threat that hangs over it.
1. That Still Center

Chapter 1

**_Here Then at Home_**

_Cassie Clemmens had always assumed that her arrival at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would be the end of her journey. After all, she would have achieved her life's goal and, that being done, could settle into a quiet, contented existence, with meaningful, productive work to fill her days and books to relax with before the fire when the day was done. Nothing would ever disturb the peace of her life there; the outside world would never interfere._

_Which just goes to show how very mistaken assumptions can be._

_ _

Chapter 1: That Still Center

_"It is not down in any map; true places never are."– Herman Melville_

_ _

"Well, dear," asked Professor Flitwick as Cassie stared at the castle, enraptured, "How do you like it?"

"It's just like I imagined," she said dreamily, not breaking her gaze. "No. Better." Then she shook her head and smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry. I've seen pictures, of course, so there's no excuse for me to be acting like this."

"That's quite alright," replied Flitwick, "Most of us who work here at Hogwarts love it like it's our home, and I'm glad to see that in you, Cassiopeia, even though you've never been here as a student."

Cassie looked over at the professor, and tried hard not to let her smile become indulgent. It would be easy to underestimate him, with his tiny stature and slightly squeaky voice, yet she knew that beneath all that was a vastly intelligent and powerful wizard. The ease with which he maintained the Hover Charm that allowed him to talk with her without developing a painful crick in his neck was proof enough of that.

"When will I meet the Headmaster?" she asked with barely contained eagerness. "He wrote me a letter when I was settled upon for the job, but I've yet to actually see him in person…" 

Her eagerness, she realized ruefully, was hardly contained at all. No matter. She was at _Hogwarts – surely that was cause enough to be eager?_

"Actually," began Flitwick, and she was pleased to see that he was nearly as excited as she was, "He said he wanted to see you in his office as soon as you had some time to get settled in, to get to know you and introduce you to some of the other teachers – not all, of course, many are still very busy getting ready for the start of term –" 

Cassie resisted the childish urge to clap her hands. "Then let's go! That is, if you don't mind, Professor…"

"Certainly not, but wouldn't you rather unpack first?"

"Professor Flitwick, I know it sounds terribly silly, but I don't think I'd be able to sit still until I met the great Headmaster Dumbledore."

This time it was his turn to look indulgent. "Of course, dear. Follow me."

And, lifting her trunk with a quick _M__obiliriscus, Cassie set off, buzzing with nervous energy, across the Hogwarts lawn. _

***

"Good morning, Miss Clemmens," said Albus Dumbledore, and the strange bubbly feeling she had felt all day increased tenfold, until she wanted to laugh for joy. It was Dumbledore, the real Dumbledore, in the flesh, looking just the same as in the wizarding photos she had seen, but even more alive. His blue eyes twinkled at her behind his half-moon glasses and it was as if, somehow, he knew exactly what was going through her mind.

"Allow me to introduce Professor Minerva McGonagall, deputy Headmistress, head of Gryffindor House and professor of Transfiguration," Cassie smiled uncertainly at a severe-looking black-haired witch, with nodded back, not unkindly. "Professor Sprout, our teacher of Herbology, and head of Hufflepuff," A plump little witch with flyaway hair whom Cassie was instantly inclined to like. "And Professor Binns, who teaches History of Magic." 

The fact that this teacher was a ghost was not much of a surprise – she had heard him mentioned, not too fondly, by acquaintances who were Hogwarts graduates, which, she thought a little bitterly, was the overwhelming majority of them. Still, she wouldn't let such a thought cloud her happiness, and she was cheerful in her greetings to the teachers, who all welcomed her in their own characteristic ways, and even urged her to call them by their first names. Cassie reciprocated, yet she didn't think she could ever address these dignified personages so familiarly. Early in their acquaintance, Professor Flitwick had invited her to call him Filius, and she had, laughing a little, confessed herself completely unable to do it.

Introductions over, the teachers left to continue their preparations. Flitwick lingered behind the rest to give Cassie instructions on how to get to her room – "Near the Ravenclaw common room, at the base of the West Tower. Ask one of the ghosts for help if you get lost, though not Peeves, of course –", then he too exited, and she was left alone with Headmaster Dumbledore.

For what seemed like the first time, she glanced away from his wizened face and took inthe office. It was a room full of magic, from the glorious phoenix, to the ancient, raggedy Sorting Hat perched on a stool, and the moving portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses. Cassie was impressed to the point of sighing, but managed to retain some semblance of dignity.

"So, Cassiopeia – lovely name, by the way, Professor Sinistra should appreciate it – what do you think of Hogwarts?"

"It's wonderful, Headmaster," she said honestly, "I'm very glad to be here."

"Good, good. Don't worry about your youth, my dear. With a year to get settled, you will be well prepared. Now, if you haven't any questions, you should go get unpacked. Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Yes…thank you." 

Somewhat bewildered, Cassie rode down the spiral staircase, at the base of which she had left her trunk, wondering absently how Dumbledore had known that seeing the aged (or even, in the case of Binns, deceased) professors had made her a bit concerned about her own age. Was she really that transparent or, and a little thrill of wonder ran through her, could the Headmaster be truly as omniscient as she had heard him described?

***

After spending the afternoon exploring the castle (and then attempting to find her way back to her room), Cassie had slept well, and awakened the next morning to find that her excited, and rather uncharacteristic, giddiness had been replaced by a settled contentment that she liked far better. 

She spent the day unpacking in her room, a modest apartment decorated in the typical Ravenclaw blue, with furniture made of dark wood. Aside from the four-poster bed, two large bookcases dominated, and Cassie was amused to find that they were only barely large enough to hold her library. After she had enchanted her trunk so that space was no longer an issue, she had had no reason not to bring as many of her books as she wanted – and had been unable to part with any of them. Filled with her favorite works of wizard and Muggle literature, the room began to feel more like home.

She met Professor Flitwick for dinner in his own private living room instead of the deserted Great Hall, and he started telling her in earnest about his classes and students, and life at Hogwarts. She took it all in, trying to remember as much as she could – though it was a bit daunting. The professor promised to show her around the castle in the morning, and Cassie went to bed full of information and plans for the start of term. 

The rest of the week passed in a similar, quiet fashion. Cassie saw no one all day except for Flitwick and the Gray Lady, the Ravenclaw ghost who was busy directing the house-elves in cleaning out the dormitories, yet she didn't mind it. She had always enjoyed solitude, in moderation, and knew that once the term started she would have very little of it. It was nice to read, study, and learn from Professor Flitwick, whom she admired more and more every day, listening to his kind, but just, descriptions of his students. Besides, she was at _Hogwarts, to stay – that was enough for happiness. _

Before she knew it, September 1st had come – the day the students and the rest of faculty would arrive, and the tempo of life become busy, bustling, and full of purpose.

***

After helping Flitwick with the Great Hall decorations, Cassie had spent the day reading in her room. She was so absorbed in _Advances in Nineteenth Century Sorcery that only the muted sounds of commotion from below alerted her to the arrival of the students. Starting, she glanced at the clock on the mantle piece and discovered that the Sorting was to begin in less than twenty minutes._

Quickly and efficiently, with no exclaiming and rushing about the room, Cassie exchanged her dusty everyday robes for a more dressy set, tied her long hair back neatly, and went down to the Great Hall, where her calm mindset suffered a shock.

She had seen the Hall, of course, had even helped to decorate it that very morning and thought she was prepared for its grandeur and enchanted ceiling, but never before had she seen it occupied. The four house tables were full of loudly chattering students, their faces lit by thousands of candles floating in midair, their reflections dancing in the brightly polished gold plates before them. The teachers sat behind a raised table at the front of the Hall, with Dumbledore presiding at the center. 

Cassie thought, looking at the young, smiling faces a little wistfully, that it was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen. 

Then reality interfered, and she realized that if she stood gaping by the entrance any longer she would be sure to attract stares. She didn't quite know where she was supposed to sit until she saw Flitwick waving at her frantically from the staff table, and made her way over to the empty seat beside him.

A short while later, the doors of the Great Hall opened to admit a group of terrified first years, lead by Professor McGonagall. They were lined up before the staff table, and a battered old hat placed on a stool before them.

Cassie watched in fascination as the Sorting Hat sang its song, and the Sorting began. But even as she clapped for each student that was placed in Ravenclaw, she felt the familiar longing play tug-of-war with happiness in her heart. How wonderful it would have been, to stand here before the entire school and be Sorted into a house – Ravenclaw, of course, -- to go to classes, make friends, and come into her own inside this magical, magic-filled place. 

By the time "Somerville, Andrew" became a Hufflepuff, she had, with almost total success, shrugged the mood off, and cast about for a distraction to complete the process. Finding one, she turned to Professor Flitwick and whispered,

"Could you tell me – which one is Harry Potter?"

The professor indicated the boy to her, and she watched him with interest. He had dark, unruly hair, and startlingly green eyes behind a pair of round-rimmed glasses, and were it not for the jagged scar that was occasionally revealed behind his bangs she would never have taken him for anyone unusual. He seemed to be just a normal boy, sitting, happy and excited, among his friends at the Gryffindor table. Perhaps there was something in his eyes that betrayed what he had been through – Cassie was too far away to tell. 

Soon, "Zipperstein, Chloe" was Sorted into Ravenclaw, the Sorting Hat taken away, and Dumbledore rose to address the school.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" he said, beaming at them all, then added, "Enjoy the feast," and sat down.

"Is that all?" Cassie asked Flitwick as the plates in front of them began filling with food.

"He never does say much before the banquet," Flitwick answered, helping himself to some potatoes."Very sensible, if you ask me. No one would hear him above the rumblings in their stomachs."

"That _is sensible," Cassie said, and then, after trying a bit of roast duck, said very little else for some time._

***

Once the feast was over and the remains of dessert cleared away, Dumbledore stood up to say a few more words. After a few notices on school policy and reminders from Filch, his face became more somber.

"I'm sure," he began, "That the incident that occurred at the end of last year is the minds of many of you." Tears ran down the cheeks of a dark-haired Ravenclaw girl, and Cassie watched her in mute sympathy, though not knowing the cause of her grief. "Most of you know – and those of you that don't will soon be told by your teachers and Heads of House – about the difficult times that are ahead for us. However, the staff has taken measures to ensure maximum safety at Hogwarts, regardless of what befalls us." 

The speech left Cassie mystified. She had heard vague rumours about an accident occuring at the end of the previous school year, but the _Daily Prophet _had made no mention of it, and Dumbledore seemed to imply some sort of long-lasting threat…

Perhaps it was just hyperbole, she told herself. After all, how well did she know the Headmaster and his habits? Inside, she could not bring herself to believe it, but resolved to put the matter from her mind and not let it blight her enjoyment of being here.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore was continuing. "A new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will be joining us this year, to help you all learn what you need to know to protect yourselves. Professor Figg has been retired for a long time now, but in the old days she was one of the best of our Aurors, and, as she never hesitates to remind me, she is still at the top of her form."His eyes regained some of their customary twinkle as he motioned towards an old woman with snowy white hair sitting on the other side of Professor McGonagall.

Glancing out across the Great Hall, Cassie's eyes happened to rest on Harry Potter. He was staring in shock at the new professor, then leaned over to whisper urgently to the red-headed boy sitting new to him, who also turned to looked up at the staff table.

Cassie looked over at Professor Figg too, but could find nothing to merit such excitement. She was certainly very old; she may have been almost of age with Dumbledore himself, yet far from infirm. The glare she was receiving from the black-haired man sitting next to her didn't seem to faze her one bit. Her bright, inquisitive eyes, darting about the Hall, could have belonged to a woman a fraction of her age.

Yet Harry Potter and his friend seemed to be discussing her still, and had drawn an intelligent-looking bushy-haired girl into their whispered conference, which grew in intensity until the rather Elizabethan ghost at the table had to put a transparent finger to his lips to shush them.

Well, as much as she liked a mystery, Cassie decided to tuck this one away and not pursue it. It was, she thought a little contritely, turning away, really none of her business.

Her own name, spoken by Dumbledore, jolted her out of her reflections. "I also have another new staff member to introduce. I'm sure you will all regret to hear that Professor Flitwick has decided to retire at the end of this year." The vast majority of the students really did look regretful, and not just at the Ravenclaw table. "In the mean time, Miss Cassiopeia Clemmens," he motioned to her, and Cassie stood up to uncertain applause "Will be his assistant and trainee, while she prepares to replace Professor Flitwick as Charms professor. After his retirement, Professor Sinistra will become Head of Ravenclaw House." 

Cassie sat down, relieved, as she'd never been confident enough to enjoy public exposure. Feeling self-conscious, she began a quiet conversation with Professor Flitwick to escape curious looks from the students. She knew that there was nothing unusual in them noticing a new face, but she couldn't help wishing for the time when she would blend in with the school instead of standing out.

***

While she spoke with Flitwick at the other end of the staff table, Professor Snape spared a moment to appraise the new arrival. Could she be trusted? he wondered. Dumbledore seemed to think so, yet, even with this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor being above suspicion, there were other places where a spy could be hid.

She looked, he reflected idly, the very image of a Ravenclaw. A pair of silver spectacles was perched at the end of her straight nose, and her eyes, large and almond-shaped, were a particularly deep shade of blue. Her oval face was very pale and her hair dark brown, falling past her waist below a neat bow of blue ribbon. The robes she wore, black edged with blue, completed the picture, until she almost seemed to be Rowena Ravenclaw herself, stepping out of an ancient tapestry.

Then her lips parted in a radiant smile at something her companion said, and the resemblance was shattered. Ravenclaw was unlikely to have ever worn such a joyful, carefree expression, one that made Snape instantly disposed to dislike her. She looked at least twenty-four or -five, and no one old enough to remember Voldemort's reign of terror had any right to smile like that.

***

After a few more remarks from Dumbledore, the feast ended, and the students were led away by their Heads of House. Cassie was persuaded by Flitwick to share some hot chocolate with the less sleepy Ravenclaws in the common room, and, to her surprise, found herself enjoying it immensely. They were all bright, thoughtful students, and talking with them was a pleasure. She knew that she could learn to love them just as she already loved the school and everything inside it, and the thought filled her with a warmth that hot chocolate alone could never have caused. 

Finally, when the fire was dying down and even the seventh years began to yawn, she retired to her room and went to bed, smiling in the last moments before drifting off to sleep.

A/N: Thank you for getting this far! This is my first attempt at a Harry Potter story, and I hope it's not utterly hopeless. It really does get better later on. I owe much to my beta readers: Riley, Snapefan extraordinaire, and the Sugar Quill's Zsenya, who caught some truly embarrassing canon mistakes, and to Erica, for being encouraging as ever.

Hogwarts, and all the characters inside it except those of my own invention belong to the marvelous J.K. Rowling. I'm just playing around. The title and chapter headings of this story are taken from a sonnet (which will be included in its entirety at the end) that Harriet Vane and Lord Peter write in Dorothy L. Sayers's wonderful novel _Gaudy Night_. 

Please tell me what you think – I can be reached by email at [astro87@home.com][1]. Chapter 2 coming sometime next week.

   [1]: mailto:astro87@home.com



	2. Laborious Hands

Chapter 2: Laborious Hands

**_Here Then at Home_**

Chapter 2: Laborious Hands

_"To work—to work! It is such infinite delight to know that we still have the best things to do."_

_-- Katherine Mansfield_

"The second-year Hufflepuffs are a wonderful class, very well-behaved," Flitwick told her, as they waited for the first Charms class of the term to arrive, "I thought to introduce the Tickling Charm today, as a pleasant way to start the year."

Cassie nodded, a bit cautiously, envisioning a classroom of second-years let loose with Tickling Charms.

"Don't worry, my dear," Flitwick reassured her, while piling thick books onto his chair, "I never have any trouble with the Hufflepuffs."

Once the class entered, all her qualms were put to rest. They were a quiet group, whispering amongst themselves and smiling shyly as they passed her. She sat in a straight-backed chair in the corner of the classroom, parchment and quill on her lap, and watched as Flitwick began his lesson.

He took roll, pausing to inquire about how their summer had gone, and took special care to set at ease a tiny girl with straw-colored hair who had just transferred from the Salem Institute for Young Witches, and looked rather dazed and scared. Then he commenced on a brief lecture on the origins of the charm, and the technique used to cast it, while the students busily took notes.

"Now, unless there are any questions, you will pair off and try it." He waited for a moment, and began putting the students into pairs until Cassie interrupted him.

"Excuse me, Professor," she said from her corner, "But I believe Miss Tompkins has a question." She smiled encouragingly at the small transfer student, who had her hand raised tremulously barely an inch over the top of her head.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Tompkins," Flitwick said instantly, "What is it?"

Liza Tompkins put down her hand and looked at him with very wide eyes, visibly trembling. Then she took a fortifying breath, and said, "P-Professor, I was, um, wondering, what it – the Tickling Charm, I mean – what it could be used for?"

The task accomplished, she sagged back in her seat, but looked up with rapt interest, waiting for an answer.

"Well," Flitwick began, quickly warming to the subject, "Pranks, of course, or annoying your younger brother or sister, though in duels it can serve as a mild sort of attack magic – if, for example, you wanted to distract your opponent long enough to think of something else or to get away." He went on to tell an anecdote from his youth, when he was first competing for the title of Dueling Champion and won by casting a Tickling Charm followed immediately by a Full Body-Bind.

"You used to be a Dueling Champion, Professor?" Liza asked with only a little of her former shyness, "Wow!" The rest of the class looked just as awed.

"That was a very long time ago," Flitwick demurred, flushing a little, "Now, remember,_ Rictusempra_, and flick your wand with an upward movement like – this."

***

"I admit, I feel somewhat encouraged," Cassie said as she and Flitwick were on their way back from lunch, "Though it'll be hard to live up to your legacy, Professor."

Flitwick laughed self-consciously, and shook a mock-admonishing finger at her. "Nonsense. You clearly know the subject and I'm certain students will like you."

"Thank you," she said sincerely and added, "Who's next?"

"No classes right now, but the Ravenclaw third-years will be later this afternoon. I have today's lesson for them prepared, but not next week's – would you mind putting together some notes on Summoning Charms for me? And I'd like to hear your suggestions on how to plan the lesson."

Cassie did not believe for one moment that Professor Flitwick was unprepared to teach Summoning Charms, but she dutifully turned in the direction of the library. Ordinarily, she would have felt condescended to, and condescension was one of the things she resented most, but in this case she couldn't bring herself to mind. He was only testing her, after all, and trying to make her feel useful. There had never been anything patronizing in his manner towards her, and for that she was profoundly grateful.

Absorbed in these thoughts and plans for her research, she entered the library, and instantly felt more at ease in spite of the suspicious looks the thin, vulture-like librarian was shooting her way. So many books! This room must have housed thousands upon thousands of them. 

Resisting the strong temptation to browse, Cassie made her way to the Charms and Spells section and picked out the volumes she would need. It turned out to be quite a tall, heavy stack that was impossible to see over as she balanced it precariously in front of her, and she was relieved to put it down on the first table she could find. 

Only once the obstruction to her vision was removed did she notice that the table she had stumbled to was already occupied.

She was so unprepared for the encounter that for a moment she could only stare at the person sitting on the other side. With his hooked nose and shoulder-length black hair, he was easily recognizable as the same man she had seen glaring at Professor Figg at the start-of-term feast. Remembering Flitwick pointing out all the teachers to her at breakfast, Cassie was quickly able to put a name to the face – Professor Severus Snape.

***

He was highly irritated to be interrupted by the clatter of books, and the fact that the interrupter was Flitwick's trainee did nothing to soothe his temper.

"Yes, Miss…?"

"Clemmens," she supplied, looking more than a bit shaken. As she should.

"Well, what is it you want, Miss Clemmens? I'm sure you can see that I'm busy." 

"Want?" She blinked, losing her dazed look, "Nothing, Professor, I simply didn't see you there." She pointed to the precarious pile of books, one corner of her mouth quirking up into a rueful smile.

Snape nodded curtly, and was about to tell her that if she had no business with him she could take herself off as soon as possible, when she almost succeeded in shocking him by dropping down into the chair opposite and pulling a book from the top of the stack.

"You wouldn't mind if I sit here, would you?" she said, already leafing through the pages. "I promise not to bother you, and I'd rather not have to move all of this."

Then she proceeded to take notes in a tiny, neatly slanted hand, not sparing him a glance, and Snape was left at something of a loss. He could, of course, simply tell her to go away in no uncertain terms, but he was loathe to waste a good opportunity to see if she could be trusted – and besides, something told him that this young woman, for all her placid appearance, would not be easily daunted.

"You are enjoying Hogwarts, Miss Clemmens?" he asked with every sign of indifference.

She looked up immediately, as though she had wanted nothing better than to begin a conversation. "I'm been asked that a lot," she said, smiling beatifically. "Yes, I am enjoying it. It's a dream come true. A lifetime of dreams…" Her voice trailed off, and she gazed off thoughtfully into the distance before coming back to herself with a start and smiling again, this time with a trace of self-deprecating amusement. 

"You will do well to curb your enthusiasm," Snape said severely, "Or you will be sure to meet with disappointment."

"You're right, I'm sure," she said, not looking the least offended at the rebuke, "But it doesn't seem that way. It's as if Hogwarts can't be anything but perfect."

Snape was despairing of getting a shred of sense out of the girl. She would have to be a very good actress indeed to fake that dreamy, half-wistful expression. 

"It surprises me that you chose Ravenclaw for your house," he said, seeking to put an end to the ridiculous discussion, "You appear to have no connection with anything resembling reality."

"Well, I always imagined that if I could go to Hogwarts, I would be a Ravenclaw, since I like books and learning so much," she said pensively, completely ignoring his insulting tone, "Though sometimes, I think that Slytherin may have been a better fit."

Snape looked down at her with mild surprise. "Clemmens doesn't sound like one of the old family names." Although, for some reason he couldn't quite place, it did sound familiar.

"No," she replied, "We prefer not to marry our cousins every other generation, and, do you know, we're quite happy all the same."

There was sarcasm in her voice, but no malice, almost as if she was too pleased with life to allow him to have any effect on her mood. Her composure served only to irritate the Potions master, and he wished, somewhat irrationally, to break it somehow, find some way to wound her.

"And what makes you think, Miss Clemmens," he said in the deadly soft voice that never failed to strike fear into the hearts of his students, "That you would have been good enough for Slytherin House?"

The girl had the insolence to shrug. "I can be quite impossible when the mood strikes me, and I never lacked for ambition of a sort." She shook her head wryly, though without any trace of resentment, and began to gather up her books. "But I can see I'm interrupting you, Professor. I'll go work in my room." 

"Miss Clemmens."

She turned back, polite inquiry written on her face.

"You will not find it in your best interests to provoke me."

"Provoke you?" she repeated with mild astonishment, "Professor –"

"Don't play innocent, Miss Clemmens, you know perfectly well what I mean." 

The look of surprise on her face became more pronounced and the blue eyes behind the spectacles turned cool, though not yet cold. "Professor Snape," she said, "I'm afraid you're mistaken."

Then she turned and walked out of the library with a casualness that provoked him far more than anything she could have said.

***

"Why is Professor Snape so unpleasant?" Cassie asked the Gray Lady, the slender, decorous Ravenclaw ghost. They were drinking tea (or, rather, Cassie was drinking and the Grey Lady was looking impeccably polite) alone in the deserted Ravenclaw common room – the students were at their afternoon lessons. After exchanging commonplaces, they had grown quiet before the crackling fireplace, until Cassie broke the silence with her question. She wasn't sure what had made her ask, but she was somewhat curious, and it seemed as good a topic as any.

The pause before the ghostly witch replied stretched on for almost too long, and while she waited, not really in suspense, Cassie glanced about the dim common room. It was large, and, except for the fireplace with the large Ravenclaw crest hanging above it, every wall was covered with full mahogany bookcases. A few blue armchairs were scattered in front of the fire, but study tables of the same mahogany outnumbered them by far. Like the ghost that inhabited it, the room was more stately and dignified than cozy, yet still comfortable for the sort of students for whom it was home.

"Perhaps you had better ask the Headmaster that," the Gray Lady said finally, her aristocratic voice uncharacteristically cautious.

Cassie suppressed a smile. "Forgive me if I can't imagine myself walking up to Headmaster Dumbledore and posing that particular question."

"He knows Professor Snape far better than I do, I assure you. He could give you a much better answer than I could."

This time there was no mistaking the evasive edge in her voice. Cassie's curiosity, mild before, was awakened by this hint of mystery. She had always liked a puzzle.

"I'm sorry," she said nonchalantly, "If you're worried about what he'd think of us discussing him –"

"Oh no, of course not," the ghost answered quickly, "Heavens no, I have been dead for too long –almost three hundred years, you know – to be _afraid_ of a professor! I just don't know if I'll be able to do him justice with my answer."

Cassie knew enough about Ravenclaws from _Hogwarts: a History_ not to suspect any compliment to Snape in the last statement – Justice, impartial and objective, was almost as important as Knowledge. She rather liked the concept of disinterested fairness herself, in an abstract way, but it was clear that this was not the Gray Lady's main reservation.

"Of course," she said, "It's quite alright if you don't want to tell me. I'm sure what I called unpleasantness was only my imagination anyway, and once I get to know the man I'll feel differently. Perhaps I could even ask him myself."

"No, my dear," the Gray Lady replied, daintily – and unnecessarily -- dabbing at her lips with an embroidered handkerchief in a motion that, in a lesser being, could have been taken for stalling, "You do not imagine it. And I would certainly advise against asking. It is not my story to relate, but I can tell you this: Professor Snape is a deeply troubled man." She sighed, the breath causing goose bumps to prick Cassie's flesh, and her voice as she spoke took on a faraway and, for lack of a better term, ghostly quality. "He has not lead an easy life – has made many sacrifices in the name of good and justice. But they were made in that name. He may be, as you put it, unpleasant, but he is an honorable man. Never doubt that."

"Thank you," Cassie said softly, gazing into the fire. While she had no trouble seeing past the ghost's melodramatics, the sad story she saw there made her thoughtful. "Many sacrifices in the name of good and justice" … what could that mean? What role had Snape played in the war against the Dark Lord? – for the phrase couldn't imply anything else.

It was not her concern, had nothing to do with her – but, as had often happened before in Cassie's life when she was presented with an enigma, she was intrigued.

A/N: Thanks again to Riley and Zsenya, and everyone who's reviewed the story here and at the SugarQuill. I really appreciated hearing your comments on my first effort, and I hope that you continue to like it! 

As always, this universe belongs not to me but to J.K. Rowling. I only own Cassie and any other original characters.


	3. From the Wide Zone

Chapter 3: From the Wide Zone

**_Here Then at Home_**

Chapter 3: From the Wide Zone

_"I find that a great part of the information I have was acquired by looking up something and finding something else on the way." _

_-- Franklin P. Adams_

_ _

"Good day, Professor Snape," Cassie said cheerfully, half-running to catch up to him in the corridor. "How are you?"

"Miss Clemmens," he said, in the tone of one trying very hard to be patient, "Is there something you want?"

Cassie shook her head with perfect innocence. "No, why do you ask?" 

There was no possible way to answer that without being blatantly rude, as she well knew. Snape, to her slight disappointment, did not choose that option, but rather continued walking without looking at her, as though hoping that she would go away.

"How were your classes this morning?" A vain hope.

"Miss Clemmens," he ground out, "Are you _trying_ to be irritating?"

"Am I succeeding?"

"Most definitely."

"Good." They walked in silence for a moment. "Now that that's settled, how _were_ your classes this morning?"

"As horrid as always." He seemed to have resigned himself to her company, though clearly not enjoying the conversation.

Cassie looked suitably sympathetic. "How so?"

"This year's crop of first years is absolutely hopeless. Couldn't tell wormwood from daisy root if their lives depended on it --"

She allowed herself a small smile, not noticing the abrupt pause. "None of them could appreciate the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron, then?"

Snape stopped in his tracks. "What?"

Cassie shook her head. "Oh, nothing. Just something my father used to say. He was quite dotty about potions, and very disappointed when I didn't inherit his talent…" She trailed off, noticing Snape's oddly stricken look.

"Your father?"

"Yes," she answered cautiously, "My father. Cetus Clemmens."

"Cetus Clemmens is your father?"

"So I've always been led to believe," Cassie said with a weak smile, wondering what she had gotten herself into. "Why, do you know him?"

"Cetus Clemmens, the Hogwarts Potions Master?"

"Look," Cassie said indignantly, turning to face him, "Do you have a point, or are you trying to emulate my attempts at being irritating?"

Was it her imagination, or did the corner of his mouth momentarily quirk up? _Good for him if it did,_she thought. _He seems far too uptight._

"I was only surprised," Snape said coldly, as though consciously belying her observation, "I did not know Professor Clemmens had a daughter."

"Well, I don't think he did either, most of the time," Cassie said with a wry smile, "At least not after he became convinced that I would never take after him…" A sudden realization struck her, and she could only marvel at her own stupidity. "He taught you, didn't he? My father was your Potions professor!"

Snape began walking again, not looking at her. "Yes," he said shortly, "He was."

_Honestly_, Cassie thought with some exasperation as she entered the Great Hall after him, _you'd think the man goes out of his way just to appear mysterious._

***

Though she would have gladly continued her observations, Cassie's duties prevented her from seeing much of Professor Snape for the next week, not least because she rather suspected that he was avoiding her. However, her next encounter with the Potions Master was at his own instigation.

She was on her way to the West Tower to drop off some books before dinner when the hard, cultured voice sounded behind her.

"Miss Clemmens."

Cassie turned. "Yes?"

"I trust you are not busy," Snape said, hardly making it a question, and Cassie, irritated,responded with the first thing that flew into her mind.

"That's rather presumptuous of you, don't you think?" 

She was instantly mortified and ready to stammer apologies, but the look on his face was so utterly priceless that they died on her lips.

"Presumptuous, Miss Clemmens?" he asked in a dangerously soft voice, dark eyebrows shooting up, but she was encouraged enough not to quail before them.

"Certainly. How could you know that I don't have something frightfully important to do?"

"And do you?" Snape asked with a hint of impatience.

"No," Cassie admitted.

"Then," he said with awful sarcasm, "If it would not be too much trouble, would you mind terribly assisting me with a potion I am making?"

"You want _me_ to assist you with a potion? May I remind you, Professor, that I am a Charms specialist, and, despite my parentage, completely lacking any talent in Potions whatsoever?"

"It's not talent I need, just someone with the least understanding of what they are doing," he snapped, and this time there was no mistaking the impatience and perhaps chagrin in his voice. The great Potions master, Cassie thought with an inner smile, reduced to asking me for help. He was arrogant, certainly, though perhaps he had the right.

"Then I would be happy to help you," she said pleasantly, and followed him down numerous stairs and corridors into the bowels of Hogwarts.

***

She had never been in the dungeons, and had not known exactly what to expect. In fact, she had not even expected dungeons. She had to admit that the flickering torches, dark stone, and damp, ancient air were certainly atmospheric, though it was not an atmosphere she was particularly fond of.

"I trust my laboratory meets with your approval?" came Snape's sardonic voice from behind her.

Her previous success giving her courage, Cassie pointedly glanced over the bubbling, multicolored beakers and various gruesome potions ingredients, before turning her head to look at him, eyebrows raised.

"A fine and private place, certainly," she said, "But –"

She expected hastily masked puzzlement, but, to her complete surprise, Snape understood her implication perfectly.

"_That _is hardly its purpose," he interrupted dryly, stepping past her. "Now, do you intend to stand there quoting poetry all evening, or perhaps get to work?"

***

"Is that small enough?"

"It'll have to do. Add them in, slowly."

Forehead wrinkling in concentration, Cassie carefully tipped the chopped up ginger root into the bubbling potion, which was turning a lovely, iridescent shade of blue.

"What exactly are we making?" she asked, peering down into the cauldron.

"Don't stand so close," Snape said irritably, his hand closing over her shoulder in a vice-like grip and pulling her back, "You're breathing in the fumes."

"Oh," Cassie said, chastised, "Sorry."

"There's a bezoar in the top drawer of that cabinet. Drop it in, but put on gloves first."

Cassie started toward the cabinet, but, midway, stopped in her tracks, and looked at him with the same close scrutiny she had afforded the potion.

"You're avoiding my question, Professor. What is this?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Dried nettles, ginger root," she repeated under her breath, ignoring him, "A bezoar… Some sort of Healing Potion, then, or… Yes, that must be it – protection!"

"Yes," Snape said grudgingly, as though she were a particularly difficult student. "A very strong potion to protect against injuries, recently developed in St. Mungo's and requiring, unfortunately, more than one person for its preparation. Now hurry and add the bezoar before it spoils."

Cassie pulled on the dragonhide gloves and did so, thoughtfully.

"Why would you need a Protecting Potion, especially such a strong one?" she asked, almost to herself, as they waited for it to boil. "Healing I could understand, but protection?"

"I have my reasons."

"Oh, I don't doubt that. But what? Come, Professor," she said lightly, trying to mask the intense interest she felt, "I must know what I spent my evening preparing."

"Get used to disappointment," Snape answered, and his voice was so cold and hard that, for all her curiosity, Cassie didn't have the heart to argue.

***

Snape finished stoppering the last bottle of Protecting Potion and pinched the bridge of his nose, hard, fighting off exhaustion. Sleep did not come easy to him these days, and when it did it only brought terrors. It was inevitable, he supposed when he could bring himself to view the nightmares with any trace of academic detachment, that he would be reminded of the darkest era of his life now, when history was in so much dangers of repeating itself. 

They had all been busy for months, creating poisons and antidotes, curses and defenses, for the battle that they all knew would come. But for all their preparations, they were no closer to knowing how and by what rules that battle would be fought, and no one but the perpetually dire Sybill Trelawney would venture a prediction on its outcome.

For Severus Snape, the war between good and evil was already being waged, as he became more and more tangled in the complex web of deceit and treachery that filled his every waking moment and, he was more certain than afraid, would someday, soon perhaps, bring about his downfall.

And then there was that girl, Professor Clemmens's daughter, who understood none of this and breezed through Hogwarts as though she didn't particularly care. She was not aware of the dangers, of course – for whatever reason, and Snape could be sure that it was a good one, Dumbledore had not seen fit to inform her. She alone had been allowed to keep her innocence, and innocent she certainly was.

Still, Snape had to admit that, while completely lacking in sense, she did possess some intelligence, and an inquisitive – often too inquisitive – mind. He could see no reason for why she seemed so particularly interested in him – perhaps her father had told her something, though she had seemed surprised enough at the mention of his name – but he doubted that he would try so very hard to repulse her the next time she approached him. He was certain now that she wasn't a spy, and her conversation, commonplace as it was, was at least a relief from the silent agony he had been trapped in since the Dark Lord's return – and before.

Besides, he thought wryly, for that train of thought had to be avoided at all costs if he was to be granted any sleep that night, it was rare enough to hear 17th century Muggle poets quoted in the wizarding world. 

***

"Hey, Mandy, guess who's been made a Prefect?"

A bored voice answered, muffled by the pages of a book. "Hermione Granger?"

"Well, her of course, but guess who else?"

"I give up, Lisa, who?"

"_Harry_ bloody _Potter_!"

"What?" The book was shut explosively, and the girl's voice was now far from bored. "You must be joking! He's done nothing but break rules for the past four years!"

"Well," Lisa said uncertainly, her ardor dimmed a bit by having convinced someone to share it, "He was pretty heroic –"

"Heroic!" Mandy Brocklehurst repeated scornfully. "Nothing but typical Gryffindor stupidity and blind luck! I swear, intelligence doesn't count for absolutely anything anymore."

Lisa sighed. "Did it ever?"

Cassie, pausing in the small coatroom outside the Ravenclaw common room, wondered if she could yet chance going in. The conversation had been begun in Lisa Turpin's ringing tones and had only risen in volume from there, and she had, however unwillingly, heard every word. 

She opened the door gently and walked in, going over to the shelves to look for the spell reference she wanted –it was after eight, the library was closed, and after spending the evening in the dungeons she still had lessons to prepare. The two girls had stopped talking at her entrance, but once she was hidden among the bookshelves they cheerfully forgot all about her and resumed their conversation.

"Anyway, about Potter," Lisa said in confidential tones, "I think he rather fancies Cho."

"Oh, does he now?" Mandy was indignant. "The nerve! Does he expect her to fall at his feet because of his bloody _scar_? Doesn't he realize Cho's better than that? Besides, I wouldn't blame her if she never so much as spoke to him, after he was responsible for –"

"Shh!" Lisa said, but Mandy was on her high horse and she was not about to get down.

"Don't you shush me, Turpin, I've got my opinion and, by God, I'll say it. The Gryffs and Hufflepuffs may worship the ground he walks on, but I will not tolerate his getting special treatment just because of something he can't even remember! He runs around getting into all sorts of scrapes and the teachers turn a blind eye, he goes and gets someone _killed _– and no matter what Dumbledore says, I think it was his fault, but he's _Harry Potter_, so they're just shushing it up and feeding us crazy stories about –"

"Mandy!" Lisa interjected frantically, pointing in Cassie's direction.

Mandy snorted, tossing her blond curls. "Oh, don't tell me _she_ doesn't know –"

"Well, maybe she doesn't," Lisa said, belatedly lowering her voice. Reluctantly, her friend shrugged, and they silently gathered their books and left for the dormitory, exchanging furtive glances.

***

By the time Cassie got back into her chamber, she was rather annoyed. She did not appreciate being loudly talked about in the third person, and appreciated the fact that there was clearly something that these students, if not all of them, were keeping from her even less. 

Dropping the book she had been looking for on her desk and lighting a candle with a flick of her wand, she sat down, resting her cheek on her hand, and thought.

Normally, she would have dismissed the incident as a minor one, just some foolish schoolgirl whispering, but there was one word that stood out – '_killed_'. That changed everything, and made it all seem extremely serious – and yet it was something of which she had no knowledge. And then there was the potion she had assisted Snape with – was that connected somehow as well? _Good Lord_, she thought suddenly, _does _everyone_ know but me_?

Sighing in frustration, she looked out of her window at the grounds. Even after her eyes had had time to adjust, it was still pitch black, the moon hidden behind thick clouds. All she could see was the faint light of a few castle windows glinting off the surface of the lake, as though afraid to probe further into the dark abyss below…

Cassie hurriedly drew the curtains, but the maddening thought could not be ignored. Even as her eyes ran over the spines of her books seeking solace, it came, unbidden – something certainly seemed to be rotten in the state of Denmark.

A/N: Once again, a big thank you to Zsenya and Riley, whose fantastic Snape/Hermione fic, "Pawn to Queen" (now up on Fanfiction.net), makes this look like very mediocre fluff in comparison! Thanks for all reviews, and comments on this chapter are always appreciated.

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling, not to me, which is probably a good thing. "To His Coy Mistress", which Cassie quotes, belongs to Andrew Marvell. Everything you don't recognize is mine.


	4. By Storms Distrest

Chapter 4: By Storms Distrest

**_Here Then at Home_**

Chapter 4: By Storms Distrest

_"Gaze no more in the bitter glass  
The demons, with their subtle guile.  
Lift up before us when they pass,  
Or only gaze a little while;  
For there a fatal image grows  
That the stormy night receives,…_

_There, through the broken branches, go_

_The ravens of unresting thought;_

_Flying, crying, to and fro_

_Cruel claw and hungry throat."_

_-- William Butler Yeats, "The Two Trees"_

By sheer strength of will, Cassie avoided thinking about the implications of what she had overheard for the rest of September and October. She knew that ignoring something so potentially important was unwise, perhaps even dangerous, but she told herself that most likely it was nothing and she was too busy to be concerned with idle rumors. Hogwarts was now her home, and she would not – _would not_ – let a chance phrase tarnish it for her. Better to let it be.

In the meantime, she continued to become better acquainted with the enigmatic Professor Snape.****

She would catch up to him in the hallways with some idle question, or sometimes he would appear in the room she occupied, as though quite by accident, and ask for her assistance in preparing a certain potion. The purpose of those potions, which varied from healing mixtures to poisons, was never explained to her satisfaction, and after a while she had grown tired of asking. 

Sometimes, Cassie would put some thought into analyzing these meetings and trying to understand exactly what made her enjoy them as much as she did. She was aware of Snape's unsavory reputation with the students, and didn't think it entirely undeserved. In fact, she was often quite annoyed with him, usually when he was being especially condescending or mysterious. But the Professor was always an interesting person to talk to, and she thought she recognized in him an inward-turning intelligence much like her own. As much as she admired Flitwick and the other teachers, her conversations with them never had the brisk, stimulating quality of the occasional verbal tennis matches she entered into with Snape. 

Of course, it wasn't _easy_. The things Cassie didn't know or understand about the Potions Master certainly outnumbered those she did, but, to her inquisitive mind, that was what made it so interesting. Which just left one question – why on earth did Snape put up with her?

Once, as they were working in the lab, Cassie had asked him in a burst of courage, and Snape had replied coldly, "Ten points from Ravenclaw for your cheek, Miss Clemmens," and turned back to his cauldron before she could be certain whether a brief flash of amusement had crossed his face.

Meanwhile, she was still an observer and an assistant in Flitwick's Charms classes, though she had yet to take a more active role. But as a strangely subdued Halloween came and went, the first week of November, when she would give her first lessons, approached and was soon almost upon her.

***

On Sunday, the time until she would first face a classroom could be numbered in hours. Closeted in her room, Cassie was going over and over her carefully prepared lesson plans with little outer sign of the strain she was under. The parchment blurred before her eyes and her concentration lapsed; she tried to focus but the noise from the common room continuously interrupted her train of thought.

_"In 1547, Gryffindor prefect Sybilla Harcourt inadvertently discovered…"_

"—the Snitch from right under his nose! Oh, you should've seen it!"

Cassie pushed her spectacles up and rubbed at her tired eyes, sighing. No walls could block out Lisa Turpin.

The common room erupted in cheers at the conclusion of the story. Ravenclaw had soundly defeated Hufflepuff in the first Quidditch match of the year, and the students' celebratory spirit would not be quenched. Cassie was, of course, happy for them, but she couldn't help wishing that the walls of the West Tower would be less resistant to Sound-proofing Charms.

"And Roger was _marvelous _– you were, don't deny it --"

It was useless. Even without the constant interruptions, the plans for her first two lessons were already so firmly ingrained in her mind that when she closed her eyes she could see them dancing defiantly across the backs of her eyelids.

_I need to relax_, Cassie thought, and wished, suddenly, that there was someone she could talk to, or argue with, to get her mind off…no, that was impossible, at this hour? Academic interest was all well, but she mustn't become dependant on the company. For all she knew, he was simply toying with her, or using her for his own ends. Instead, she reached for a volume of poetry and lay back on her bed, letting the pages fall open at random.

_"On either side the river lie_

_Long fields of barley and of rye,_

_That clothe the wold and meet the sky…"_

No, that wouldn't do. She couldn't get her mind to focus anything but the fact that she had no idea what a "wold" was, and why had she never noticed the word before, and what if a student asked her tomorrow and she wouldn't know?

Relax, Cassie told herself severely, closing the book and covering her eyes with one hand, You're being silly.

She was able to control herself for precisely two minutes before she got up and pulled out the last volume of her battered dictionary.

***

It didn't help, as she had known it wouldn't, and in fact only made her anxiety worse, as she was forced the face its direct cause.

In the morning she would teach for the first time in her life, and the thought terrified her.

Cassie had never meant to be a teacher. Research, knowledge, and the quiet world of academia were what appealed to her, and from the time she had discovered, at the age of twelve, a strong aptitude for charms and spells (_"Nothing but silly wand-waving," _her father's voice rang with surprising clarity in her mind), she had planned to spend her life studying and developing them, just as her mother had done. But when she had heard through one of her professors at the London College of Magical Arts of Flitwick's search for a replacement, the thought of getting a chance to finally coming to Hogwarts after all these years had proved irresistible…

Never mind that she would actually have to _do_ something there.

Well, maybe she was creating a tempest in a teapot. After all, she was sure of her knowledge of the subject after a lifetime of her mother's lessons and five years at the College, not to mention extensive reading, and in her two months at Hogwarts she had grown to like many of the students and believed that the feeling might be mutual. There was nothing to prevent her lessons from being a success.

But as hard as she tried, Cassie couldn't bring herself to be convinced by that reasoning. Sighing in frustration, she put away the forgotten book and prepared for bed, taking an inordinate amount of time brushing her hair while dreading the moment when the candles would be extinguished and she would be left alone with her fears.

***

She didn't get much sleep that night. Every hour or so she'd prop herself up on one elbow and glance at the enchanted clock on the wall, watching the hand move, at once too quickly and with agonizing slowness, from "Lights out" to "Rise and Shine!". She would remind herself that she'd need to be rested to prepare for the difficult day, but worst case scenarios continued to fly through her mind and sleep refused to come. __

_Great Merlin_, she thought helplessly, _How am I going to get through this?_

It was, perhaps, a mercy that her frantic thoughts never strayed to the disturbing events of September that she had spent so long in trying to forget. The last thing she needed that night was another cause of anxiety.

But even the worst nights can't last forever. The sky outside slowly became a slightly lighter shade of black, then a dull gray, and the sun wavered just below the dark line of the Forbidden Forest. _I may as well get dressed_, Cassie thought, brushing her long hair away from her face, _It doesn't seem as though I'll be getting any sleep tonight anyway_, and closed her eyes.

_She was in Professor Snape's laboratory, polishing a cauldron. The formerly bright, shining metal was tainted by dark splotches that only seemed to grow in size the more she scrubbed at them._

_"That cauldron is dirty, Miss Clemmens." Snape was behind her, his face twisted into his trademark sneer._

_"I know," she said, and tears were streaming down her cheeks, which was odd since she rarely cried. "I don't know what happened. It was always so clean, but now it's tarnished and I can't…" She stopped, chocking on a sob._

_But of course it wasn't Snape, how could she ever have thought it was? It was her father, and he was frowning at her._

_"Cassiopeia," Cetus Clemmens said severely, "How can you hope to get anywhere in life if you are incapable of such a simple task?"_

_"I think it was always dirty," she tried to explain, "But I just thought it was clean, so I never noticed it before…"_

_"A paltry excuse," said her father, and he was Snape again, except he was speaking in an strangely high-pitched voice and for some reason he was calling her "Miss Cassiopeia"…_

"Miss Cassiopeia!"

Cassie opened her eyes blearily, to find herself staring into the enormous blue ones of a Hogwarts house-elf, which was hovering nervously a foot above her bed.

"What is it?" she asked, temporarily disoriented.

"Miss Cassiopeia wish to wake up now, is eight o'clock! The Lady sending Libby to make sure Miss Cassiopeia be not late."

"Yes," Cassie said, trying to smile kindly in spite of the pounding headache the house-elf's squeaky voice combined with a severe lack of sleep was causing, "Thank you, Libby."

Libby bobbed a curtsy in midair and vanished. Yawning, Cassie rose and dressed, surveying herself critically in the full-length mirror.

The figure that stared back at her was not one guaranteed to win respect from students. She was very slender, barely of average height, with a painfully pale face hidden behind a waterfall of dark hair. The blue eyes were tired and clearly frightened, with telltale dark circles below.

Cassie's dry sense of humor, which had sustained her even through the apprehensive night, deserted her then, suddenly and irretrievably, and she was left facing the image of her weakness and feeling very, very serious.

But there was no time to mope and tremble. With a hand that barely shook she gathered her long hair into a severe chignon at the nape of her neck, concealed the bruise-like marks under her eyes with a tap of her wand, and settled her spectacles more firmly on the end of her nose. 

It wasn't much of an improvement, but it would have to do.

***

The first lesson went surprisingly well. The second-year Ravenclaw were, as always, serious and well behaved, and Cassie had no problems as she taught them, often stumbling, the origins of some basic spells that would not be covered in History of Magic. A few of them even raised the heads up from their books to smile at her encouragingly when she floundered, and Cassie was feeling much better by the end of the lesson.

Then the fifth-year Slytherins arrived.

At first, there were no indications of trouble. They sauntered – there was really no other word to describe it – into the classroom as usual and took their seats, talking amongst themselves as they waited for the lesson to begin with remarkably little impatience. However, when Flitwick did not appear and only Cassie was seen at the front of the class, the first signs of rebellion began to show.

"Why, good morning, Miss Clemmens," drawled a pale, blond boy from the back of the class, "Do you plan to be teaching us today?"

Cassie didn't find the remark particularly funny, though the two unpleasant-looking girls flanking him began to titter.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked evenly. 

"Yes, actually." The cold gray eyes refused to flinch away from hers. "It was my belief that we attended this school in order to be taught by _real_ teachers." The titters intensified.

_"But, Father, I –"_

_"Baring potions, self-control is the best thing I can teach you, Cassiopeia. A reaction made without thinking is highly likely to be the wrong reaction."_

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Mr. Malfoy. Now, can anyone tell me what effect Jelly-Legs and the Furnunculus Curse have when used one right after the other?"

Momentarily, the Slytherins were stunned. Then a snub-nosed girl with thin, light hair, sitting on Malfoy's right, raised a hesitant hand. _That wasn't too difficult_, Cassie thought with relief.

"Yes, Miss Parkinson?"

"Um…" Pansy Parkinson's modest powers were under obvious strain. "I think Draco has a point. And you shouldn't have just shrugged him off like that, it was so rude." She sat back down, shooting a half-shy, half-triumphant smile at Malfoy. It was clearly too early for relief.

"If Mr. Malfoy wants to discuss the matter with me further," Cassie said, a cold tone to her voice that she would have found very familiar if she had paused to examine it, "He can do so after class. We have much to cover."

"Not until you apologize to Draco!" burst forth Millicent Bulstrode, nearly overshadowing the beloved object as she loomed over him protectively.

"_Apologize?_"A somewhat hysterical half-laugh was shocked out of her. _Self-control…_

"Yeah," said Millicent defiantly, "You should apologize. Don't you know who his _father_ is?"

Unfortunately, Cassie did know, and too well, but she could hardly allow the specter of Lucius Malfoy to control her classroom.

"Mr. Malfoy's father is certainly not my concern. Teaching you lot something about Charms in the next three years is. Any questions?" A mistake, that, as she realized almost immediately.

"I've got a question," said Malfoy, speaking up for the first time since the battle in his defense had begun. "Was the board of governors by any chance aware of the irresponsible way you'd choose to run your classroom?"

Now that was simply preposterous, especially coming from Lucius Malfoy's son and Cassie didn't hesitate to say so, though in moderated terms. The Slytherins bristled.

"How can you speak that way to Draco? You don't have the right!" Pansy exclaimed indignantly, and Millicent nodded – it was perhaps the first time that the two girls had ever been in agreement. Crabbe and Goyle said nothing, but their beady eyes took on a distinctly malevolent quality.

"All of you can take up your complaints with Professor Flitwick, _later_. Twenty points from Slytherin for the interruption to my class." 

"_Twenty points!?_" The outcry was unanimous.

"Oh, but you can't do that," a black-haired, sulkily elegant girl named Blaise Zabini spoke up for the first time from her isolated seat near the front of the room. Her voice was calm but decidedly frosty as she looked up at Cassie with heavily painted dark eyes. "Only the professors and Filch can take away House points, _Miss _Clemmens."

Cassie had not been aware of that, or had assumed that she was near enough to being a professor as to make no difference. 

"Alright then," she said tightly, "I will report to Professor Flitwick, and he will take away the points. Now may we please begin the lesson?" 

Another mistake. Slytherins were quick to seize upon concessions, and that "please" had been a definite concession. It had also been a sign of weakness, and with the weak they were merciless.

The verbal attacks became more and more sharp and their manner more insolent, and nothing Cassie attempted had the least effect. She tried ignoring them and going on with her plans, tried to parry their vicious thrusts or taking away more House points, but whatever fear or respect they had held for her was irrevocably lost.

The bell rang and they left, whispering amongst themselves. Blaise Zabini was last, pausing to shoot Cassie a contemptuous glare through her long black lashes. She seemed about to say something, then stopped, laughed mirthlessly under her breath, and walked out of the classroom.

Left alone, Cassie sat down at Flitwick's desk and buried her head in her hands.

***

"I don't know what to do," she said helplessly, her hands in a vice-like grip around the mug of warm milk Flitwick had pressed into them. "If I don't get them under control it will spread through the entire House – a quarter of my future students…" She trailed off, taking an unwilling sip – she had always hated warm milk, her mother had forced it on her whenever she was sick – to mask the weakness.

"Oh, my dear, don't distress yourself." Flitwick patted her hand, looking as upset as she felt. "They're only children."

_Only children_, Cassie thought, remembering the dull pain behind the scorn in Blaise Zabini's eyes, and wondered how young the hearts of Death Eaters' children could possibly be.

But of course she couldn't voice those thoughts to Flitwick – they would be nothing new to him, and she had no wish to grieve him.

"How do I deal with them?" she asked instead.

"I'll talk to them," Flitwick offered, "And I'll handle all the Slytherin classes until then."

Cassie nodded, gazing down at the opaque white surface of the cooling milk. "Thank you."

"I only hope I'll be able to help… I'm so sorry, my dear, it was all my fault. I thought it would be better to leave you alone with the class, not to undermine your authority, but I should have known –"

"You'd be the last one to blame, Professor," Cassie said, forced now to reassure him. "There was no way you could have known." She got up resolutely, returned the still full mug, and, bidding him goodnight with a smile that was almost genuine, left the fire-lit warmth of Flitwick's sitting room.

Alone in the corridor, she started in the direction of her room and then stopped, uncertain. In spite of her previous restless night, Cassie had never felt less prone to sleep in her life. Her talk with Flitwick had done little to soothe her, and at that moment nothing seemed more horrible that the thought of her bed and the terrors it promised.

The dark shadow the torches cast wavered, then turned and flitted across the wall back in the direction it had come, past the softly glowing door of Professor Flitwick's chamber, and down numerous flights of stairs into the dark depths of the castle. 

***

In a few minutes, she was standing outside the door of an unlit classroom, her hand poised over the dark wood with no memory of how she had gotten there.

_It's late, I shouldn't have come, what good could it possibly do? _Cassie thought, desperately looking for an excuse to turn around, run back to her room in the West Tower, and hide amongst her books feeling sorry for herself.

She knocked.

A breathless moment, then, with a reluctant rasp, the door opened.

"Miss Clemmens," said Professor Snape, "Is there something you want?"

***

A/N: I hope the formatting looks alright – the site isn't cooperating with me too well right now. Just in case there's another ff.net outage, this story can also be found at [http://www.sugarquill.com/archivehp/natashas/home.html][1]

I promise the next chapter won't take so long – major rewrites happened in this one, but it wouldn't be very nice to keep you hanging with that ending:) Schnoogles to Riley and Zsenya, both of whom are wonderfully encouraging betas who helped me get past a particularly bad bit of writer depression, and to Erica, Polina, Mike, and Irina, who have to put up with me ranting about this story on a daily basis!

Fairly exhaustive and long-winded Disclaimers: The universe I play around in belongs, of course, to the brilliant and talented J.K. Rowling. The fact that Blaise Zabini is a girl (keep an eye on her, by the way -- she wasn't supposed to show up, but now that she has…) owes itself to Riley's "Pawn to Queen" and Cassandra Claire's "Draco Veritas", two wonderful, if very different stories. "The Lady of Shalott" (the poem Cassie tries to read) was written by Tennyson. Various other references and allusions are scattered about, but unless I do endnotes for this story (which would prove that I really am getting too big-headed!) it would be impossible to credit them all. 

As always, thanks to all reviewers – I owe lots of inspiration to reading your lovely comments.

   [1]: http://www.sugarquill.com/archivehp/natashas/home.html



	5. The Spinning World

**_Here then at Home_**

Chapter 5: The Spinning World__

_"'I am half-sick of shadows,' said_

_            The Lady of Shalott."_

_-- Alfred, Lord Tennyson_

There was pause.

Candles were lit behind the half-opened office door at the back of the classroom, backlighting Snape's tall figure and making his face appear even more inscrutable than usual. He was shrouded in a disapproving sort of silence, obviously waiting for her to speak.

"Um…" Cassie began, faced with a total lack of inspiration. _Oh, Merlin's beard_, she told herself severely, _There's no reason to be afraid of the man. _She took a deep, but hopefully not too obvious breath and started again.

"Good evening, Professor." It was awfully hard to meet his eyes when she could only see dark shadows where they ought to have been. "I was wondering if I could talk to you about something?"

_Success_, she thought wryly while waiting for Snape's answer, _I think I've managed to astonish him. There's just enough time to savor the victory before he recovers enough to throw me out_.

Surprisingly enough, however, Snape chose not to do so, but opened the door a further fraction and motioned her in with sarcastically exaggerated courtesy.

Cassie entered, resisting the urge to comment or respond in kind (after all, she did want his help), and followed him through the shadowy classroom to the office beyond.

Snape moved to stand behind his desk, his hands tapping impatiently at the dark old wood. Cassie, perched uncomfortably on the edge of a very hard chair, absently noted that they were really quite nice hands, long and elegant, and would probably do a very good job of strangling her if he couldn't decide on a curse instead.

_…no reason to be afraid…_

"Professor, I…" She stopped, mentally berating herself, and blurted out, "My first lesson was today."

"A momentous occasion indeed," said Snape, sarcasm thick enough to be cut with a knife."Shall I offer you some champagne?"

"There's no call to be nasty," Cassie snapped, startled out of her embarrassment.

"Isn't there? You seem to be acting in a manner considerably silly even by your standards, Miss Clemmens, so I would say there was every call."

Cassie flushed, though, fortunately, she doubted he'd notice in the dim light. "A hit, a very palpable hit. Though my nerves are strained to the breaking point, Professor, and you are doing your best to be intimidating, so I don't think I can really be blamed."

Snape turned away from her to face the empty fireplace, one hand resting on the mantle, head bowed, and when he spoke his voice was bored. "If I humour you and ask why it is that your nerves are so unbearably strained, will you go away?"

Needing help or not, Cassie did not enjoy being shrugged off. "I'll 'go away', Professor, as soon as I've said what I've come here to say." 

"Then _say _it." There was no mistaking the exasperation in his words.

She gathered her righteous anger about herself like a cloak and began firmly, "I had to teach your fifth year Slytherins today, and they were disrespectful, uncooperative, and rude. I won't stand for it."

He let out a breath that was almost a sigh. "Alright. I'll speak to them."

"_Speak_ to them?"

"What more would you have me do?

"But –" She stopped, willing the hysterical edge to vanish from her voice. "Professor Flitwick is _speaking _to them! I was hoping you – that you would –"

Snape waved a hand impatiently, interrupting the incoherent stream of words. "They will listen to Flitwick. They will obey me."

"Look, I admire you self-confidence, but I hardly think –"

"Miss Clemmens, need I remind you that your lack of control in the classroom is hardly my responsibility?"

"It is when it's your students that are causing the problem!"

"Need I also remind you that _my_ students never caused any problems in Professor Flitwick's class?" Cassie glared at the unseeing back of his head, but had nothing to say in reply. "You have betrayed weakness to them, and they have used it to their advantage. It is what they, as members of Slytherin House, have been taught to do, and I would be well within my rights to commend them for it."

"You're right." Cassie buried her face in her hands, and her hair, already on the verge of collapse, cascaded down through her fingers. "Circe, you're right. What can I do?"

"If you need me to tell you that," said Snape dryly, "Then perhaps you should reconsider your choice of profession, Miss Clemmens."

"Maybe I should," Cassie said defeatedly, muffled by her hands. "I don't seem to be much good at it."

There was a silence. Well, and what had she expected – for Snape to reassure her? That would hardly have been his style. Still, despite the weariness that was seeping into her very bones and coloring her tone, she was just a little hopeful that maybe, given time, she would be able to win her students' respect. 

Or maybe not. Whatever the future, it wouldn't help to stay here any longer. Snape had obviously had his say and was done, and she was suddenly so very tired…

"Thank you," she said, rising, "Really. I'm sorry to be so much trouble. Good night, Professor." Already in the dark classroom, she turned, suddenly remembering something, and began, "By the way, do you happen to have any –"

Thinking her gone, Snape had turned back from the fireplace, and the expression on his face was enough to stop her words and choke back the breath in her throat. He looked indescribably weary, as though he had not slept in a hundred years, and his shoulders were stooped with the weight of troubles that Cassie instinctively knew would make her own seem incredibly small and petty by comparison. 

Then, before her own face could betray the compassion he would have probably flung back into it, the shutter was down and it was gone. 

"— any valerian root?" Cassie finished lamely. She was shivering – damn the man for not lighting a fire. "Or chamomile, perhaps?"

A bundle of herbs was briskly issued to her and Cassie left, the door to the Potions classroom shutting softly behind her with all the force of a slam.

***

She was gone.

_And good riddance_, said one side of Severus Snape, while another, bothersome one, was whispering that perhaps he did not really want to be alone. 

Which was nonsense, of course. There were, he was forced to acknowledge, other reasons for his desiring – allowing -- her company than those he had initially admitted to himself, but none of them were enough to allow her a greater share of his time and thoughts than she already had.

Cetus Clemmens's daughter was certainly a pretty young woman, intelligent and quite strong-minded, though not ostentatiously so, and completely free of any prejudices against him – ten, twenty years ago, perhaps, in other circumstances…

And that was nonsense too, as well as folly. He was long past foolish speculation and what-ifs. _This,_ he thought bitterly, looking around the cold, dark office, _this is the most I can expect. _And perhaps, thinking with a barely-controlled shudder of the night following the Triwizard Tournament, not even this for much longer. 

And just as well – what was there to live for, after all, and what more appropriate end for the head of Slytherin House than to be exposed for serving two masters? 

He was so very, very tired. 

***

The next morning, rested and refreshed in body and soul, Cassie walked into the staff room and was somewhat surprised. 

In chairs gathered together near the fire sat Professors McGonagall, Sprout, and Vector, their heads close together in conversation, with Professor Sinistra, bent over a messy stack of parchment at a desk in the corner, making occasional contributions. There was no one else in sight.

"Oh, come in and join us, dear," said Professor Sprout, looking up. "Have some tea. The men have deserted I'm afraid, and I can't blame them, really." She giggled in a very un-professorial manner and clapped a hand over her mouth.

Cassie smiled, feeling as though she hadn't done so in years, pulled up a chair, and accepted a saucer with a steaming cup.

Of course, she should've have known that forgetting about her troubles would not be quite so easy.

"I've heard a troubling report," Professor McGonagall said in a voice torn between sympathy and disapproval, "Of the behavior of certain students in your class yesterday."

"Yes," Cassie said, accepting the implied question with resignation, and proceeded to give a brief account of the fifth year Slytherin lesson.

"Oh, how _revolting_!" exclaimed Professor Sprout when she was finished, and made a remark about Slytherins under her breath that was most uncharacteristic of her.

"Now, Solaria," McGonagall objected, though she also appeared scandalized. "Miss Clemmens, I presume you've taken measures?" 

Cassie nodded wearily. "House points. Detention if it happens again. I'm also spoken to Professor Snape and he's promised to deal with the problem." The shock at that last was, she had to admit, rather satisfying. "I don't see what else I can do."

"But why anyone would _do_ such a thing, I can't imagine," Professor Sinistra put in suddenly, head cocked to one side and half of her coarse gray-black hair escaping from its pins and Charms. "They must have known that it was only your first day teaching, and to act in such a manner… I'm afraid I often don't understand the students at all."

Momentarily quite startled, Cassie struggled to recover gracefully. "Well, yes," she said, "Their motivations can sometimes be just as complex as adults', if not more. What is that you are working on?"

Professor Vector smiled kindly, refilling Cassie's cooling teacup. "Selene is writing her magnum opus, you see. It's a history of wizarding astronomy from ancient times and argues that Ceti Schrodinger's proposal that the Muggle science is the purer of the two is absolute poppycock."

"Well," Sinistra said, clearly gratified, "Not in so many words…"

"We are predicting," Vector went on, "That it will be completed sometime after the turn of the next millennium."

"Oh, sooner, if Verity continues to help me," In her eagerness, the Astronomy professor shook her head and the other half of her coiffure collapsed. "She has such an orderly mind, and knows exactly how to arrange things…" Then, trailing off as abruptly as she'd begun, Sinistra turned back to her great scholarly work.

"But really, Miss Clemmens – Cassiopeia," Professor McGonagall said, still intent on the problem of the Slytherin class, "I am extremely sorry that you should have had so unpleasant an experience. Of course, the Gryffindors –"

A bell rang distantly.

"That's breakfast," Professor Sprout said a little too brightly, rising, "and I really shouldn't be neglecting my House much longer."

The other professors followed, though Sinistra lingered over her manuscript. Cassie reflected that she had rarely seen her at any meals.

In the doorway, Professor Vector paused and waited for Cassie to catch up to her.

"My dear," she said, "I'm sure you're aware by now that Slytherins can be vicious brutes, at any age." There was a slight dry emphasis on the last phrase that Cassie couldn't fail to notice. "If you need any help, any at all…"

"No," she answered with a confidence she was only beginning to feel, "No, I think I'll manage. It won't be easy, but…well, I think I'll be fine."

"I'm glad." Vector's hand rested briefly on her shoulder before she added, unexpectedly, "After all, there is a great deal of Arithmancy involved in advanced Charms. Now come, we mustn't miss breakfast – it's the most important meal of the day, you"

***

Sitting next to Flitwick at that vital meal, Cassie uncomfortably avoided his attempts to find out if she was "quite alright" and only redoubled her efforts at seeming cheerful in response. But however irritating she found them, the widespread displays of concern accomplished what nothing else could have done -- made her see the incident in true perspective. 

She was not a failure at teaching, or at least, not yet. She had a difficult class – not unusual, especially where Slytherins were concerned. They did not respect her – they would learn to. All was not yet lost.

She was so involved in her thoughts, absently pushing a few steamed carrots around her plate, that she almost didn't notice the Headmaster lean over to address the staff table.

"Pressing business," he said, "—No, Solaria, don't be alarmed – pressing business calls me away to London today. I ought to be back by this evening, so there is no need to trouble the students, or to be troubled yourselves, for that manner." 

Despite the admonition, several of the professors looked at the Headmaster uncertainly, and Snape was staring into his goblet as though it contained all the secrets of the universe. Dumbledore, no doubt, noticed the hesitation, but said only, "My, what delicious pastries – the house-elves really have outdone themselves this morning! Minerva, have a bun."

***

Having only one Hufflepuff class that afternoon, Cassie headed to the library after breakfast and spent a pleasant few hours with the work of a highly imaginative witch of the Romantic period. About half an hour before lunch, a thought struck her, and she reluctantly left the book to descend to the lower levels of the castle. On the way she was almost ran over by a sixth year Hufflepuff in a dangerously low-cut robe, a sketch that bore a remarkable resemblance to Professor Snape clutched in her hand. Cassie looked after her for a second, forehead creased in puzzlement, then, shrugging, continued on to the dungeons.

Had she been planning on it, she couldn't have picked to observe a Potions lesson at a worse time. A double class of fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins, it was proceeding in the usual direction those classes did – straight towards complete disaster. 

"_Potter!_" From beyond in the corridor, Cassie barely recognized the voice as Snape's. She stopped just beyond the door, listening with the fascination of one watching a particularly horrific broom accident.

"But, Professor," exclaimed a breathless female voice, "Malfoy was –!" 

Whatever the conclusion of that sentence, Cassie found it quite easy to believe.

"Silence, Miss Granger. And you, Weasley, put your wand away this instant." He spoke more softly now, but with no less menace. "Has Professor McGonagall perhaps _neglected_ to mention to you that, this year, inter-House fighting will not be tolerated? Of course, I would not put it past –"

"She did say so, sir," said Harry Potter. He sounded very serious. "I'm sorry."

"_Harry_!" someone hissed.

"No, Ron, he's right – you remember what Dumbledore said last year, we can't afford to…"

"Sit down, Mr. Potter. All of you, stop goggling and get back to work before your potions become completely useless." Still harsh, but Cassie could tell that the anger was abating. She dared to come a bit closer, looking through the classroom door but still hidden in the concealing shadows, just in time to observe Draco Malfoy leaning over and whispering,

"Yes, sit down like a good boy, Potter, since you and your Muggle-loving friends are too afraid to stand up for yourselves." 

His words were calculated not to carry to the front of the class, but they were just loud enough for those sitting near Harry to hear. In the space of the second, Ron Weasley was on his feet, his wand drawn, and Malfoy was writhing in agony on the floor. 

Another moment, and Snape had stridden across the classroom to Malfoy's side and counteracted the spell, glaring at them both.

"Well? Care to explain yourselves?"

"He said –"

Snape cut the red-haired boy off sharply. "Mr. Malfoy?"

"He's lying, sir," Draco said with a patently false display of hurt pride. "He attacked me _completely _without provocation."

"Twenty points from Gryffindor, and detention for you, Mr. Weasley."

"But he –"

"Not another word, or it will be two. And if I –" 

Mercifully, the bell rang, and not even the fear of Snape's wrath could have held the students in class. They all but ran out of the room, hurrying on to lunch, and Snape was about to follow when Cassie stepped out to block his path.

"Is _that_ how you would like me to teach my classes?" she asked indignantly.

When, walking past her to continue on his way, Snape answered, his voice was clearly strained, and the sharpest she had ever heard it. "I have no need of criticism from the foolish, idealistic girl you are proving to be, Miss Clemmens." 

"Well, I may be all that," Cassie said to his straight back, "But at least I can sleep sound at night." 

He turned, and she cast a pointed look over the puffy circles under his eyes, standing out in sharp relief against the sallow skin. Then the black eyes above them locked and held hers ruthlessly, and she took an involuntary step back.

"And I," he said with carefully calculated cruelty, "Regardless of my methods, can keep a classroom under _adequate_ control."

It stung, as it was meant to, and she was quick to retaliate as best as she knew how.

"And, oh, what ample reward that must be for having three-fourths of them hate you!"

"I had the fortune to be taught by a master of that art."

Two bright spots of color stood out on Cassie's pale cheeks. "My father may have been sarcastic, but he was _never_ cruel."

"Miss Clemmens," Snape said, turning away as though suddenly tired of the argument, "Even you must admit that desperate times call for desperate measures. Good afternoon." Black robes billowing very effectively behind him, he strode off before she could think of a suitable retort.

"Desperate times!" Cassie exclaimed with uncharacteristic passion to the empty corridor, "And what is it that makes these such bloody _desperate_ times?"

There was, she knew, only one person who could tell her that.

A/N: Apologies for the delay (again!). Time is virtually nonexistent, but I'm trying my best. I've been rather too Author-note happy lately, so suffice it to say that all the usual disclaimers and thanks apply, especially to Riley and Zsenya who are really wonderful. A certain part of this chapter is owes much to Dorothy Sayers's _Gaudy Night._ Also, the sixth-year Hufflepuff that almost knocks Cassie down is my friend Irina Shrayber, who's drawn some absolutely gorgeous pictures for this story that I'll try to post online. 

Thank you all for reading – I can't reply much to individual comments right now because of the time constraints, but I really appreciate them none the less. 


	6. In Dizzying Circles Hurled

**_Here Then at Home_**

Chapter 6: In Dizzying Circles Hurled

_"God offers to every mind its choice between truth and repose. Take which you please; you can never have both."   -- Ralph Waldo Emerson_

Only one person who she could ask – but Dumbledore, of course, was away for the day. 

_Fortune's fool, indeed,_ Cassie grumbled while making a vicious stab at a perfectly innocent potato. _Why today, of all days? _Then, noticing a few pairs of curious eyes on her, she subsided. It was, after all, her own fault for ignoring the obvious for so long.

There was something wrong at Hogwarts, and, hurt her as it may, she had to know what that was. 

And Dumbledore was the one to tell her, and _Dumbledore _had to pick that day to be in London.

If the potato had ever dreamed of being mashed, its ambitions were fully fulfilled.

***

The Hufflepuff class was both a curse and a blessing. It gave her something to focus about besides her worries, but at the same time she was guiltily aware that she was not giving the students her full attention. 

The bell rang and, mustering a brave smile for Flitwick, Cassie fled to her room. 

It was only three o'clock. She could hardly go and sit on the doorstep of Dumbledore's office until evening, but she was not fit for anything else except pacing about the room. So Cassie paced.

She was terribly nervous. The admission was less shameful that it would have been two months ago – before coming to Hogwarts she had always prided herself on her composure under pressure, but this castle seemed to be making a permanent jumble of her emotions. 

_Ridiculous,_ she told herself firmly. _It's a place, only a place, and I'm giving it far too much importance. _But, Merlin, it was so much more than that. The very walls seemed to speak to her in a way that little else in her life had ever done – the worn, comfortable rooms of her parents' cottage had housed her for twenty years, but – though it felt like betrayal to think it – they had never been Home as much as Hogwarts now was.

_Please,_ Cassie thought desperately, unsure of whom she was addressing, _Please don't let anything ruin this for me. Because, oh Circe, I don't think I could go back._

She threw opened her window and leaned out into the wind, and was surprised to feel the sharp November air prickling at a wet spot on her cheek. The lake glistened black in the gray light, the forest was dark and forbidding – all in all, it was a peculiar place to be so violently attached to, and yet attached she was.

But there was something dark and secret lurking here, and, whatever it took, she had to find it out, even if it meant that she would have to leave this place. Because as much as she loved Hogwarts, she knew that she could never be happy there under the shadow of a lie. 

All of which was easier said than believed, and in the maddeningly slow hours until the time of reckoning she changed her mind several times, and at one point had even convinced herself that it was better to let it well enough alone. In the end, however, she was Cetus Clemmens's daughter, and to be indecisive was not in her blood. By six, it was dark, and she deemed it late enough to chance trying to see Dumbledore.

***

"_What are you doing here?_"__

It was the last thing Cassie had expected to hear. She had arrived at where she knew the door to the Headmaster's office to be to find that some sitting on the doorstep would, after all, be necessary. She didn't know the password, and knocking had proved ineffectual, so she had prepared to pace nervously in front of the stone gargoyle when a deep voice that she couldn't fail to recognize cut through her thoughts and stopped her in her tracks.

"I could," she said a little shakily, turning, "Ask the same of you."

Snape folded his arms across his chest, and seemed quite willing to spend however long it took to stare her down.

"I need to see Dumbledore," Cassie said, abandoning the game. "Has he returned?"

"He has not," Snape said shortly.

She approached him, leaning against the wall by the dark recess where he had been…well, lurking was a particularly descriptive word.

"You, too? Well, I suppose we'll both have to wait then." She sighed, pushing back a stray lock of hair. "Any idea what the 'pressing business' might be?"

"None."

Cassie craned her head back, smiling up at him. A great deal of adrenaline had left her in a rush, and she was feeling more than a bit giddy. "You're worried," she stated, inwardly wondering at her own boldness. "Why?"

Snape's dark eyes narrowed at her through the gloom. "Are you quite well, Miss Clemmens?"

That did it. Free from the last traces of self-control, Cassie collapsed against the wall in peals of helpless laughter, tears trickling out the corners of her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she managed, once she had breath enough to speak. "I don't know what's wrong with me…I've just justified all your fears and worse, haven't I?" She was forced to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle another explosion.

Far from appearing amused, Snape looked an even mix of exasperation and impatience. "Are you finished?"

"Quite," Cassie confirmed with perfect solemnity, straightening and wiping away her tears with the back of one hand. Wordlessly, Snape offered her a black silk square of a handkerchief that, for some inexplicable reason, almost set her off again. "It's the stress. But for my collection of singing potatoes, I'm really perfectly sane."

His mouth opened, then shut with a snap, and he had to take a deep breath before saying, "If you are sufficiently calm, what was it you needed to see the Headmaster about?"

Every trace of mirth was now gone. 

"A serious issue," she said slowly, "And rather urgent."

"Not the fifth years again?"

"_Again?_ You make it sound like – oh, bother, I don't have the strength to argue. When is he getting back?"

"I haven't the faintest notion of that, nor of what he is doing in London. As it is Dumbledore of whom we speak, we may be sure that there is a perfectly good, if not readily apparent, reason."

The baroque phrasing didn't fool her for one second – she was familiar with the ploy.

"But you're still worried."

"That is not your concern."

The words, an unintentional echo of what she had heard from him several times before, hit far too close to home.

"Why is it," she began with barely-contained rage, "That nothing of any importance is ever my concern? Do you think I don't know that something is being concealed from me? I may be young and innocent, but I'm not a fool, and I can tell when something's wrong. What is it? Why are students whispering about Harry Potter, and teachers making dire warnings, and Headmaster Dumbledore leaving on mysterious errands in London in the middle of the school year? For Merlin's sake, Professor, _what is going on?_"

Snape stalked across the corridor away from her, then turned, glaring. She had the distinct impression that he was buying time before he spoke. "Nothing is going on. Once again, your overactive imagination is getting ahead of your nonexistent reason."

"You're lying to me. And I do not have an overactive imagination."

He disdained to answer. In desperation, Cassie approached him and laid a tentative hand on his arm.

"Please," she said, nearly pleading, "Whatever it is, I need to know." 

Before she had finished speaking, Snape wrenched away from her with a violence wholly unexpected.

"Let it be, you foolish girl, or you may get more truth that you bargained for. Leave it alone!"

"I can't. You knew my father – could you expect me to be happy with a safe falsehood?" And yet, she almost had been, Circe help her.

"Not now," Snape said sharply, with a careless impatience that only served to infuriate her.

"It's already far too late! I should have come here sooner, I know that, but now that I'm here I need the truth. And whatever people may say about you, I know I can trust you to be honest. Will you tell me or not?"

"If you insist." And, still facing away from her, Snape began to speak with quiet gravity that was more alarming than any rage. "You have heard of last year's Triwizard Tournament?"

"A bit, yes."

"What you are not aware of, because the facts have been kept from the general population in an example of gross incompetence –" For a moment he seemed in danger of losing his temper. "—Is exactly what occurred at the end of the third task." Briefly and succinctly, omitting several important details, he proceeded to relate how Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter had reached the end of the maze at the same time, how the Triwizard Cup had turned out to be a Portkey, how it had transported the two boys straight into the hands of Voldemort and his servant, and the subsequent duel from which Harry Potter only barely managed to escape with his life.  

When it was over, he turned to see Cassie staring ahead, her blue eyes very wide. For a moment, she seemed on the verge of collapse, then visibly pulled herself together and whispered, "But…oh, Merlin, that potion!"

"Yes." He cleared his throat before continuing. "I'm sure you realize the significance of that. Even after his first defeat the Dark Lord did not die entirely, and now –"

"And now," said Albus Dumbledore, "Voldemort has returned."

***

Dramatically speaking, it was a very effective entrance. They both froze where they stood and turned to look at him, dull shock on Cassie face and – to one who knew him well enough to recognize it – profound relief in Professor Snape's. 

"Headmaster!" he exclaimed. "Why…?"

"Pressing business, as I told you, Severus," Dumbledore said placidly. "I had to replenish my supply of lemon drops." As evidence, he held up a small paper parcel.

"Lemon drops," Cassie repeated softly, wondered whether to laugh or cry, and suddenly felt too tired to do either.

"And," he continued with equal serenity, "I see that I've returned just in time. I'm glad that you've finally come to your senses, my dear – burying your head in the sand really doesn't present much of a view, does it? Though the initial shock is regrettable, of course. May I suggest that a brisk walk may be just the thing?"

"A walk?" she asked uncertainly. Dumbledore's words sounded as though they were coming from beyond a very thick curtain of fog.

"Exactly. I'm sure that Severus would be happy to accompany you and answer all of your questions. Rather chilly, but it'll do wonders for your state of mind." And, with no pause for protest, Dumbledore Summoned their cloaks and marshaled them out the door.

***

The night was crisp and cold, a quarter moon hanging lazily over the tops of the castle battlements. They turned their backs to it and walked with the lake to one side and the dark Quidditch pitch to the other, not yet speaking. 

The sharp wind stung Cassie's face and whipped her hair from its pins, but also cut through the haze of shock she had been trapped under and helped returned her to herself. She shivered.

"We could go back inside, if you wish," said Snape. He sounded unusually subdued.

Cassie shook her head and muttered a Warming Charm under her breath. It helped, a little. 

"It's hard to believe," she said softly, "Though I suppose we ought to have expected it. Oh, Merlin, what's going to happen now?" She looked up at him with the unspoken entreaty to tell her that it would all work out perfectly. Being Snape, he did not, of course, do so.

"Nothing has happened as of yet, though the tension has climbed to the point where it's nearly unbearable, which is probably the Dark – Voldemort's intention. As for the future…it's impossible to tell. We have survived once – take that either as a sign of our luck or an omen for it to change this time around."  

"So, we are at war, and yet the public knows nothing about it. I take it the Ministry is ignoring the facts?"

"Fudge –"

Cassie nodded. "Of course. I never did like him, but this… bureaucracy!" she said disdainfully, but her voice shook midway through and she stopped and buried her head in one voluminous sleeve, trying to stifle the sudden sobs. Through a haze of tears she saw Snape searching for a handkerchief and choked out, "I still have it." 

For a moment, he appeared not to have heard, then before she had a chance to protest she saw the blurry world replaced by a curtain of black and felt two strong, impersonal arms steadying her. She turned her head so that her spectacles wouldn't be crushed, and cried miserably for quite a long while, letting out the anger and frustration that was threatening to choke her. Then she stepped back, wiping her eyes with the sodden handkerchief.

"Oh dear," she said with something like a laugh, offering the dripping square of silk.

"Keep it," Snape said shortly, and they started walking again.

"But what I don't understand is," Cassie said when she could trust her voice to be steady, "Why wasn't I told? Surely, as a teacher –"

"A teacher in training," Snape corrected. "I suppose Dumbledore was testing you."

"Waiting to see how long I would continue my ostrich impression? I see. I can't say I like it, but I guess he couldn't risk having another Fudge on his hands. But no," she added after a pause, "I don't like it at all."

"Dumbledore –'

"Moves in mysterious ways? I don't doubt it. Sorry," she added, "I keep interrupting, you really ought to take off house points. I'm a trifle out of sorts."

"And quite angry, I would imagine."

"Terribly. The nerve of the man – if one can call him a man – to make his return just as everything was finally going right for me!" The attempt at levity failed completely, and Cassie ended the sentence on a sniffle. "It was all his fault, you know. I got my Hogwarts letter in '82, shortly after his downfall, but my parents wouldn't let me go. They knew how much I wanted to come here, to make friends, to _learn _something, but I suppose they were still nervous, afraid that he would come back. And that's the funny thing really," she finished bitterly, "For all the horrors You-Know…Voldemort's responsible for, that's the one thing I can't forgive him for. And all because my parents were _scared_."

Wrapped up in her pain, past and present, she only then noticed that Snape had come to a sharp stop behind her, and was now staring over her shoulder with an odd expression on his face, as though he could glimpse the past there.

"What's wrong?" Cassie asked softly.

"Miss Clemmens – Cassiopeia," Snape said, turning his head now to look at her, and his voice was unexpectedly rough, "It was not Voldemort that they were afraid of."

A/N: I'm really sorry, but at least no one is in danger of instant death (*cough*IWS10!*cough*) g

Thank you all for reading – one more chapter to go!


	7. The Heart of Rest

**_Here Then at Home_**

Chapter 7: The Heart of Rest

_"I move in silence_

_With each step taken_

_Snow falling round me_

_Like angels in flight_

_Far in the distance_

_Is my wish under moonlight"_

_-- Enya, "On My Way Home"_

Cassie took a step toward him, brows drawn together in puzzlement. "Not Voldemort…?" The name came almost effortlessly now. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Snape said with a shadow of his usual sarcasm, "that while you should by all means go on hating Voldemort, of denying you your dream he can at least be absolved. Blame me instead."

"_You_? But how…?"

"It's a long, dull story, and the night is cold. You are certain you wish to hear it?"

A last, almost desperate chance for her to refuse. She did not take it.

"You said, earlier tonight, that I may get more truth that I bargained for. Well, you were wrong, Professor – there's no such thing as too much truth."

"That's a rather sweeping statement."

"It's a night for sweeping statements, I suppose." She paused, and when she spoke again it was with compassion. "I can see that it's difficult for you to tell me. But if…if I am going to accuse you, I must know of what." 

"Cease, Miss Clemmens. I am convinced." He sighed, the breath rising up in a little cloud, and began to speak, his voice flat and emotionless as though he was simply stating the truth to be recorded.

"I have yet to meet a genius at Potions to rival your father. When I came to Hogwarts I already had some…knowledge…of the subject, and he was quick to recognize my ability. For several years I was his protégé and he taught me most of what I know today. But during my fifth year, I began to…move in a direction of which Professor Clemmens didn't approve. He gave me an ultimatum – unless I abandoned my new associates, my apprenticeship would come to an end.

"I was young and head-strong, with a head full of inflated ideas about my own talents. I wasn't about to let this foolish old man dictate my future. I told him that I already knew enough, and did not need his help. Some strong words were exchanged, and after that we spoke to each other as little as possible. Then, after my graduation, I fully justified his fears and more. It wasn't until a few years later that I saw the errors of my ways, and by then it was too late to regain his favor, even had I been humble enough to try. Then came Voldemort's downfall, and Professor Clemmens decided to retire from teaching. Against his very outspoken objections, Dumbledore chose to hire me as his successor.

"Professor Clemmens refused to agree to it, but he was given little choice. There was a rather unpleasant scene in the Headmaster's office, at the end of which your father stormed out, proclaiming that he would never let his daughter be corrupted by…one such as me. So you see, I am the guilty party."

For a while, Cassie didn't answer, staring thoughtfully at the swaying hem of her robe. There had been only a brief flash of anger at the truth before acceptance set in – what matter who was to blame now? He had not, she realized with a touch of exasperation, told her everything, but what he had said painted a picture of her father that was not entirely admirable.

And now, when his daughter had finally shown up at Hogwarts and casually elbowed her way into his life because of some childish curiosity, what had made him put up with her, even solicit her company? 

She wrestled with the problem, twisting it around to look at it from a different perspective, and suddenly it made perfect, terrible sense.

"It's no use, you know," Cassie said quietly, still gazing at her feet, "My father died six years ago."

She looked up then, watching the realization dawn in his face, and could not contain the rapid flow of words.

"It was the potions in the end. Mother was always warning him to be careful, worrying that he wasn't taking enough precautions, and when she was proven right it nearly killed her. She's never been the same, just buried herself in her research, and hardly ever even writes to me anymore. My father and I were never that close, and for a short while after he died I was almost _glad _that finally I'd be able to leave and go out into the world, and sometimes I think that maybe she knows and that's why she doesn't write, though that may be just guilt. Oh, dear," she said suddenly, and stopped.

Fortunately, Snape did not appear to have heard a word. "Yes," he said quietly, "Yes, it's quite obvious. You always referred to him in the past tense, but I never supposed… He is – was not a man one can easily picture dying."

"As you can imagine, it came as something of a shock to us as well." Somehow, the wry tone she was trying for turned into bitterness, and she bit her lip. 

"I am…sorry."

It was wholly unexpected. Cassie looked up, studying him, and pronounced with some surprise, "Yes, I believe you really are. How shocked the Gryffindors would be." Then, the weight of numerous revelations and a tiny bit of – yes, she would admit it – hurt breaking through the shell of brittle humor, she sighed and apologized in her turn. 

"Well," she said after a moment, hiding her fidgeting by renewing the Warming Charm, "So much for your plan of absolution."

"So you've realized that."

"Of course." She'd never had this much trouble with the charm before. "What other reason could there be?" 

"Now that, Miss Clemmens," Snape said acidly, "Is fishing for compliments, and if you expect me to indulge you, you will be disappointed."

It could hardly have been meant to be reassuring, but it was, somehow, enough.

They walked on in silence for a while, the night still around them. Cassie looked up and gazed at the bright sideways "W" of the constellation for which she was named until her eyes began to water, thoughts flying rapidly through her mind.

"Oh –" …_dear_, she started to say, realized with an attempt at a rueful smile that she was being repetitive, and paused, breathing out a little puff of air. 

They had, she saw, almost reached the Forbidden Forest. Its dark bulk loomed ahead, sharply divided against the lighter shade of the sky. Cassie looked at it intently, trying to distinguish individual trees and branches among the shadows, and failed. 

_Midway upon the journey of our life _

_I found myself within a forest dark, _

_For the straightforward pathway had been lost…_

The verse occurred to her, sharply breaking her train of thought, and though the Warming Charm was still in effect Cassie shuddered.

"It's all rather overwhelming," she said, her voice sounding surprisingly prosaic. The phantoms vanished, the forest was once again only a forest, and she was able to scold herself for being foolish. Still, she avoided looking at that unrelieved patch of black if she could help it. 

"No one, least of all Dumbledore, would blame you for being overwhelmed."

"For leaving, you mean?" Cassie asked indignantly. "I would never –"

"Miss Clemmens." He was speaking as though giving a lecture in the classroom, a striking incongruity. "Abandon your pride for a moment, and think. You owe it to the school to leave now if you have the least shadow of doubt. If you are to help us in the times ahead, you must be absolutely certain. Do you understand?" 

Cassie nodded silently. _Was_ she certain? It was a difficult question to answer. It would be so easy to give in, to return to her old, comfortable life and forget that any of it had ever happened…but how, short of _Obliviate_, could she ever forget? 

Hogwarts had been a paradise to her, a magical place where everything was somehow more vivid and lifelike, where she seemed to fit as easily as though created especially for that purpose. She had dreamed of it all her life and, finally finding her way there, found the reality to be a thousand times grander and more wonderful than any of her dreams.

And yet, what of the Slytherins, who still despised her, the irritating poltergeist Peeves who smashed plates in front of her path at least once a week, the stairs that shifted positions without rhyme or reason, or the countless other small, petty examples that suddenly sprang to mind? What of the terrible secret that had been deliberately concealed from her by nearly everyone in the school?

Had the perfection been only a product of her imagination all along, the delusion of a mind incapable of dealing with real disappointment, and was she now, Merlin help her, escaping from an even bigger lie than the return of Voldemort?

Cassie looked down at her feet, Snape's presence beside her completely forgotten, the pain an almost physical ache in the chest. Then, turning her back to the Forbidden Forest, she looked instead at Hogwarts, the grand castle that appeared a patchwork of candlelight and shadow, and suddenly, she knew.

"If I leave now, he'll win," Cassie said. The words sounded strangely loud and solemn, carried away into the distance by the wind. 

"Do you think so?" Snape was carefully, maddeningly neutral.

"Yes," she said, gaining confidence. "Yes, I do. And I can't let him win, not now. He may not have been directly responsible thirteen years ago, but what difference does that make? Do you think that I'm arrogant enough to think that mine was the only tragedy, or the worst?" She looked up and met his dark eyes levelly, motioning at the castle. "Hogwarts isn't paradise, and being within its walls won't solve or banish all my problems, I see that now, but it still matters. It was a symbol and a refuge to me when things were at their worst, and it must become one again now. I didn't come here to fight battles, but if that's what must be done, I'm prepared."  

"Hogwarts is worth a war?" Snape asked, the irony not quite genuine.

"It's worth anything." 

Cassie passed a hand over her eyes, feeling drained. A trite pronouncement, but she was prepared to see it through. She would stay.

"Professor Dumbledore will be relieved to hear it."

Cassie looked at him suspiciously, but his face was unreadable. "Oh," she said after a moment. There didn't seem to be much more to say. "Anything else I should know?" 

"I'm sure that he would be glad to answer all of your questions."

"Whereas you are wasting your valuable time here and would much rather be back in the dungeons, stirring something unpleasant in a cauldron?" To her own surprise, Cassie found herself smiling. 

"That sums it up fairly well," Snape said, starting back in the direction they had come. "How proud Sybill Trelawney would be."

"Professor," Cassie said, and he turned back. "I can read your mind about as well as Professor Trelawney can. You must explain things to me occasionally."

Snape looked exasperated, but did not answer. _Well_, Cassie thought, _it was worth a try_. She hurried to catch up to him, and then paused, looking thoughtfully at the castle.

_Worth anything_, she had said. It contained almost a thousand students who were the future of the British wizarding world, the great and wise man who would lead them, perhaps the last bulwark in the war that would soon be upon them. Not the restful retreat she had been looking for, but it was, now more than ever before, the best home she had ever known, and one's home was worth fighting for. 

She didn't say any of this aloud – she didn't feel as though she had to. Instead, she smiled brightly at Snape and drew his arm through hers, highly amused at his annoyed expression.

"You can't fool me, Professor," Cassie proclaimed, taking the first step forward, the wind in her face. "I may not know why you conduct your classes the way you do, or deliberately make yourself look unpleasant with some rather unusual Charms, or a great deal else for that matter, but never fear, I shall get to the bottom of it. For now, let's… let's go home." 

"Miss Clemmens," Snape began in a pained voice.

"You know, you'd think that after all these earth-shaking revelations, you could bring yourself –"

Still bickering softly, they set off through the cold November night towards the brightly lit, welcoming citadel of Hogwarts School.

_Here then at home, by no more storms distrest,  
    Folding laborious hands we sit, wings furled;  
    Here in close perfume lies the rose-leaf curled,  
Here the sun stands and knows not east nor west,  
Here no tide runs; we have come, last and best,  
    From the wide zone in dizzying circles hurled  
    To that still center where the spinning world  
Sleeps on its axis, to the heart of rest.  
  
Lay on thy whips, O Love, that we upright,  
    Poised on the perilous point, in no lax bed  
        May sleep, as tension at the verberant core  
Of music sleeps; for, if thou spare to smite,  
    Staggering, we stoop, stooping, fall dumb and dead,  
        And, dying so, sleep our sweet sleep no more._

_-- Dorothy L. Sayers, Gaudy Night_

THE END

A/N: Well, it's finished. I had a lot of fun writing this story and I hope it was as enjoyable to read. I certainly think I've improved in the process, and while I realize that it's far from perfect, I'm very proud of it anyway :)

This story owes a lot to my wonderful betas – Riley, who is now getting a Real Novel published as well as being the author of the fabulous "Pawn to Queen", and the Sugar Quill's Zsenya, who corrected my numerous small errors and was wonderfully encouraging throughout. Thanks also go to my RL readers, and to everyone who reviewed at fanfiction.net, the Pensieve, and Schnoogle. I really appreciated hearing from you!

"Here then at Home" is dedicated to Dorothy Dunnett, who sadly passed away while I was writing it, and to whom I owe many hours of reading enjoyment as well as much of my view of Snape. She was a truly amazing author, and will be much missed.

I'm also eternally grateful to the following authors for quotes, allusions, and inspiration: J.K. Rowling, without whom none of this would have happened at all, Dorothy L. Sayers, W.B. Yeats, Tennyson, Andrew Marvell, Laurie R. King, William Shakespeare, Dante, and the marvelous R.J. Anderson, whose "Darkness and Light" trilogy made me a Snapefan. My memory isn't the best, so this is a very partial list.

Of course, I realize that there are a lot of questions still left unanswered – why did Flitwick decide to retire, when is Cassie going to find out about Snape's Death Eater past and his current role, what's going to happen next, and, most importantly, will Snape ever quote John Donne? I'd like to write a sequel, if anyone would like to read it, but it'll several weeks at least since the plot bunnies I have are still extremely fuzzy.  

Finally, a big thank you to everyone who bore with me until the end! I'd love to hear what you think of the last chapter, and of the story as a whole.

-- Natasha Simonova


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